Because We Have You
by Lady Otori
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots celebrating SasuSaku Month 2019. Rating subject to change! Latest Prompt: Festival. "Yes; he's not one for festivals, but he is one for Sakura's smile." [SasuSaku]
1. Far From Home

**AN:** Some lovelies over on Tumblr requested I post my contributions to SasuSaku Month 2019 on , so here we are. These will be short and sweet. Let's celebrate our favourite ninja together!

**Day 1: Far From Home**

* * *

Sasuke's wanderlust is in his bones if not his blood, and he has been places, seen things that the warm people of Fire had never nor would never experience. It's there, right at the very edge of the world, where Sasuke looks out onto the endless ocean and thinks _I am far from home_.

He does not think of the streets of Konoha, still new enough that the patina of people hadn't sunk into the stones; and he does not think of the land of Fire itself, though he carried its heat within him always. No: Sasuke's home is in the easy acceptance of Naruto and the fond indulgence of Kakashi, the way that Sakura's eyes trace the essence of his being and even in the curious stares of her parents as they watch team seven train.

Home, to him, is people and memories more than places and things. And with this thought in his head Sasuke turns his back on the never-ending sea, places his pack on his shoulder, and counts out the rhythms in his head that would lead him back.

It was lucky, he considers later, that his sense of home is at once so transient and so strong, because when he is still three months away from where he expected to find it, a part of home finds its way to him.

Sakura has changed once again in his absence. Where they'd parted at the gates of Konoha she was a medic recovering from war, her entire body bent in the service of other people and her gaze focused on finding his hurts and healing them. At the riverbank where they meet, far from home, she is every inch the explorer of her own destiny. And he is, Sasuke sees when she skips stones along the water before she notices him, only a part of it.

"Sasuke-kun," she says, and her surprise is so genuine that Sasuke wonders once again at Kakashi's talent for coincidence. "Where are you-"

He stops her with a look, because if she asks him where he was going then he will have to tell the truth: to her. Instead, the wanderer turns the question back to his fellow traveller, and Sakura pauses in unpacking her lunch to smile up at him.

There is a hint of ferocity to it.

"Kakashi-sensei sent me out to find Tsunade," she intimates, and then shrugs. "But I never did. And since I still have a month left before I need to return, I thought I'd go to see the end of the world."

Sasuke has looked at it both literally and metaphorically, and it is nothing special. "It's not worth it," he says, sitting down next to her, and he thinks they are not talking about the same thing when Sakura replies,

"Isn't it?"

Still, when he shakes his head she seems satisfied, and even deigns to share her food with him, a set of tart onigiri that speaks of civilisation more than his fading rations.

"What will you do instead?" he asks, and because Sakura knows him very well she reads underneath the underneath, hears the question that he's really asking.

"I thought," she hums, and grins when he doesn't stop her stealing the umeboshi from the centre of his rice, "that I'd try my hand at being a wanderer."

There is a kind of quiet that steals over Sasuke at these moments; he has been places and experienced things no other ninja has seen nor will ever see, but they cannot compare to the mysteries that reside in Sakura's eyes when she looks at him in her special way. He watches her long enough to see the blush that fights its way onto her face, colour hard-won in the face of her maturity. And he's silent for almost the length of time it would take for her to retract her statement.

It doesn't happen, though, because he leans back on his arm and says,

"I think you'd be good at it. Better than me."

Sakura laughs, and in it is the sound of lunches at Ichiraku and dinners in her house and afternoons spent on the rooftops of Konoha's summer spots.

"Better than you?"

She is incredulous. "Sasuke-kun, how could I be a better explorer than you? You're so far from home!"

He smiles at that, a hairline fracture in his immovable features that she picks up like the dervish of the desert wind.

"No," he replies, "I'm not."

* * *

**AN:** The last line killed me.


	2. Patterns

**AN:** For the Day 2 prompt, Patterns. Short, sweet, and overly concerned with the beauty of words.

* * *

Sakura is a creature of patterns. From the route that her chakra traces as it thrums with her heartbeat, to the spin of Sasuke's Rinnegan when he tries (fails) to look severe, her awareness is caught up in the shape of things. It's why she's so fascinated by the constellations as they wheel above her head; vast, unfathomable patterns moving in ways that have nothing and everything to do with the people who live below them.

She tells this to Sasuke. Unlike Naruto he doesn't stare suspiciously at the stars, and unlike Ino he doesn't flaunt his knowledge of the meanings behind unknowable things: he simply tilts his chin back and looks.

And when Sasuke looks, he _looks_. She feels the stirring of his own chakra - so different the dance is - as his Sharingan pierces the veil.

"What can you see?" she asks. It's just the two of them on the roof; his tolerance for the people of Konoha wears thin at the best of times. And this is _not _the best of times, because Naruto breached a second cask of sake and their friends are riotous with it, howling like half-starved beasts and ruining Hinata's good work on the new Uzumaki residence.

"Everything," he replies.

She gets it. There's no pattern broader, more intricate than the one above her, although the mysterious lines of the human body come close, sometimes.

"What are the stars like, out on the road?"

Sakura thinks he might not reply; it's a gamble she hasn't got the rhythm of just yet. Then she turns to face him and he's wearing his thinking expression. If he still had two hands they'd be laced under his chin, and it makes her smile.

He looks at that, too.

"There were more of them," he says eventually, which makes sense but it's _so literal_ and she didn't really mean- "but they were all in strange places."

It's a careful acknowledgement of his past, because if Konoha isn't quite home anymore then it must have been once, been the spot where he looked up at the stars and fixed them forever in his mind as in their rightful places.

"And now?"

Sometimes Sakura asks questions when she knows the answer might hurt her; this is one of those days.

"Now…"

Sasuke trails off, and his chakra spins and spins into the heady heights of his gift, and Sakura doesn't realise she's in a genjutsu immediately because he's just that good. He stitches together patterns in places she hadn't thought to look; there is more than stars above them, she sees. There is space and the absence of it, dizzying shades of dust that reminds her of nothing more than the secrets inside their frames, layers of celestial shapes that bring with them the realisation that she and they are one and the same.

And then Sasuke's hand over her eyes, because it's too much. She hopes he doesn't feel the beat her lashes plays against his palm but he does. He does, because his hand draws back like it's burned, and then he puts it down, closer between them than any rhythm they've danced before.

"I think I prefer looking at them from down here," Sakura whispers. Some patterns aren't meant to be solved.

"Ah," Sasuke agrees. "With you."

* * *

**AN:** We're all made of stars, Sakura-chan 3


	3. Medicine

**AN:** I wanted to explore Sakura's medical magic through other eyes, so here we are! Please enjoy my take on this prompt.

Day 3: Medicine

* * *

She's distributing little herbal pouches to the villagers when he comes back to their meeting point. The queue doesn't look like it will end soon, and so Sasuke drops to his knees beside Sakura, slotting in seamlessly to the production process and courting the unspoken promise of her smile.

It seems the local population has trebled: he thinks, privately, that people from nearby settlements have heard which doctor is in session, dropping their tools for a chance to receive Sakura's famous healing. And she does heal, but only when they truly need it. There's a little boy with an awkwardly broken arm who runs away hale, and an old woman with death's gaze hanging over her who shuffles back to her house with the gift of painless last days.

For everyone else there's a small jute bag, brimming with her expertly bundled herbs and a pat on the head or the hand that must be a placebo except that Sasuke sees it _works_. When she's finally finished - refusing the gift of an inn for a night, because these things are never truly _free _\- he puts his hand under her elbow and lifts her bodily, hand steadying her when she sways on legs half-asleep.

"Really, it's no trouble, sensei," the town elder says, gesturing magnanimously towards the small inn. "We've plenty of room for you and your assistant both; you must be tired."

Sasuke blinks, almost looks around for her assistant before he realises it's _him_. But Sakura is busy refusing graciously, and they're a good distance away from the village before he catches her shoulder shaking with laughter.

"What?" he barks, although he already knows.

"My assistant," Sakura says, full of mirth, and he has to resist rolling his eyes because then she'd know that he'd been thinking about it too. "How about you become my assistant, Sasuke-kun?"

He doesn't dignify that with a response, simply steers her off the path towards promising camping ground, busying himself with arranging their spot for the night while Sakura's distracted with amusement. Though she won't admit it, Sasuke knows that each one of those medicine pouches was imbued with a touch of her ineffable chakra, enough to make her bone weariness noticeable even to strangers. To Sasuke, who watches her like a hawk, Sakura's exhaustion is almost tangible.

There's a game he likes to play, when they're settling for the night and Sakura has given too much of herself. He measures, quiet, how much of the preparations he can do without her help or her attention until she notices, inevitably insisting on helping.

Tonight, it's everything.

Sasuke turns to cooking before Sakura comes out of her tired reverie, and she smiles at him with laughter still dancing on her lips.

"You're a good assistant, Sasuke-kun," she says, gesturing around at the efficient campsite, the heavy black cloak that lies across her thighs as she perches on a log. "Sure you don't want to become mine?"

He sits back on his haunches and this time _does _roll his eyes; she sees it and giggles, knowing it for the indulgence it is.

"Come on," she cajoles, looking so winsome that Sasuke feels himself edge around the fire for the simple comfort of being closer to her. "I'm a good boss, you know. Ask anyone at the hospital."

Sasuke has heard - through Naruto, from Hinata, who he didn't figure as a liar - that Sakura was known for being a good boss until she was a terrifying one.

"No," he says, and Sakura drops it, thinking his answer ill-humour when really it's simple refusal. They are still working through these things, the hitches and snags in communication between two people for whom love looks very different.

He frowns at her downturned expression, and because they're alone Sasuke closes the final distance between them, moving soundlessly until his back is braced against her legs as she sits. Her hands come up automatically, and where another's would feel heavy on his shoulders Sasuke likes the press of hers, small fingers resting with their latent destruction against his skin.

"Anata," Sakura whispers, and it's a medicine more potent than any of her panacea.

He looks up at her, sees the way she's trying to understand him, what he means when he's curt and abrupt and then sweet like he knows she thinks now.

"I don't want to be your assistant," Sasuke murmurs, enjoying the way her hair is just long enough to brush his forehead as he looks up into her eyes.

"Mm," she replies, agreeing, and there's less distance between them than before; he can see the individual lashes as they kiss delicate skin under her eyes.

"I'd rather," Sakura continues, and he has to strain to hear over the merriment of the fire in front of them, "you be my husband."

It coaxes a smile from him: the small one she likes best, if the blush across her nose is any indication. "Aa," he says, and he can't poke her forehead from here but he'll lean the extra distance she's left between them, closing the gap.

He can, does; will continue forever to do that.

* * *

**AN:** I'm a sucker for travelling fluff.


	4. Festival

**AN: **So I haven't managed to do the prompts every day, apologies! Here's my take on the Festival prompt. Poor Papasuke!

Day 5: Festival

* * *

The message crumpled in Sasuke's fist is abundantly clear: _miss the festival, and you'll regret it. _

Sarada hasn't said it in so many words, but it's there in the frustrated brush strokes and what he _thinks _is a tear stain, testament to how much his daughter regrets the mission that will take her out of Konoha over the midsummer matsuri.

He's not too far from Konoha at the moment - in fact, if he concentrates, he can feel the buzzing of so much chakra - and while Sasuke is not in the habit of acquiescing to demands, it's harder to ignore when it's the child he wants to build a better relationship with. Even more so when her demand is that he go home and spend an evening with his wife.

Yes; he's not one for festivals, but he _is _one for Sakura's smile. And Sarada's.

Decision made, it doesn't take long before the Uchiha is near enough to sense the overwhelming presence of ninja in close proximity to one another, the unconscious jostling of chakra that permeates a hidden village to its bones. Sighing, he spots the festival procession as it winds its way through the streets. He's late, but Sakura has always preferred the stalls to the ceremony anyway, and if he times it well he'll catch her adjusting her kimono before stepping out.

Sasuke is half right: his wife is still home, but Sakura doesn't look like she's preparing to go anywhere. He's barely over the threshold before he smells the sharp salt of tears, dropping his cloak to the floor as he moves to see what's wrong.

"Sa-Sasuke-kun?" Sakura exclaims. Because she's unprepared he can see the way the tears have washed her face clean of colour.

They're alone, and in their privacy he feels no qualms in crossing the distance to where she's slumped on her armchair, placing a hand on her head.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and she looks up at him with such an embarrassed sense of anguish that he's instantly on high alert.

"Nothing!" she squeaks, but when Sakura tries to lie to him he can see it in the very cadence of her breath. She's lying now, and all it takes is a raised eyebrow before she's half out the chair, arms thrown around his midsection.

There's a crunch that might be his ribs; Sasuke feels all his breath leave him at once, but he's not a ninja for nothing, standing firm against the accidental onslaught of his wife's embrace.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this-" she's apologising, little hiccuping breaths punctuating her words, "but I realised this will be the first time in years I've been alone for the summer matsuri, and…"

Sakura trails off at the feeling of Sasuke's fingertips on her forehead. As she looks up into his face he can see the surprise across her features, chased with a blush of colour at the way his fingertips trail down from her forehead to her cheeks her lips.

He coaxes colour back into her skin, and when her lips part to ask him a question Sasuke leans forward a little, shortening the chasm between his standing height and her seated one, and says,

"You're not alone, though."

It brings a smile to her face. The one he'd come home for, and she doesn't ask him what he's doing here but instead wonders whether he'd like to get changed and go out to eat takoyaki.

Neither of them particularly like takoyaki, but that's not what she's really asking. Sasuke knows the undercurrent of her words, nodding to her before helping her to her feet. They stand too close to one another for a moment, each contemplating in their own silent way the prospects of _missing _the festival, but Sakura's eyes truly are glimmering with excitement so he lets her bundle him into his summer yukata. It is, Sasuke notices, pristine and as ready as though he'd worn it yesterday.

"Do you remember," Sakura chants as they leave the house, she wearing a yukata decorated in the colours of the Uchiha fan, "the first midsummer matsuri we went to together?"

He does. They were nineteen and they weren't quite together yet, and the festival lights have remained in his memory a backdrop to the yearning of youth.

Sasuke nods. "It was warm."

Whether that was a true recollection of the weather or a memory of the fire he felt, he couldn't tell, but Sakura smiles at him like she understands what he means anyway.

"And Naruto followed us everywhere." Sakura shakes her head indulgently, taking his arm with the confidence of a wife as they move closer to the crowds of people. People don't stare at him as much these days, but they _do _watch Sakura, some with the reverence of legend and others with the knowledge that their _one more day on earth _has come from her. And Sasuke doesn't like to be the centre of attention, but he finds he likes it when Sakura is.

"Hn," Sasuke grumbles, before maneuvering so that she can open the small purse around his wrist, "thank the gods that Naruto has a family to distract him these days."

Fishing for coins - he knows she'll order onigiri first - Sakura grins at him from under her fringe, knowing what he is really expressing: _thank the gods that Naruto found a family. _

He thinks her softening gaze says _thank goodness you did, as well_, but she doesn't comment and they wander through the food stalls, onigiri in hand while Sakura's free arm hooks into his elbow. Sasuke has no description for what they're doing but a date and it's nice; they don't often get to spend time together like this.

And when he spots Sarada giggling with Chouji's daughter behind a stall, he realises that it's deliberate, too.

* * *

**AN:** I love the idea of a precocious Sarada. She's my little ace 3


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